


Your Biggest Cheerleader

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, just good ol' wearing a skirt because you look dang good in it, not supposed to be fetishized or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: The first time, Rhett laughed. Link doesn’t blame him–it was a different time, and they were practically babies. Rhett was right to laugh, probably, based on what Link remembers. Things hadn’t fit right and what sticks out in Link’s memory of the day–besides Rhett’s involuntary giggle, high-pitched and nervous–had been how dang unwieldy everything had been.
He’d felt good, though, in a little white thing with red piping, a vital piece of a cheerleading uniform Link still isn’t sure how Rhett’s then-girlfriend had left without.
(even then he’d thought about how it ended up on the floor in the first place, about Rhett’s blunt fingers fumbling with the zipper before getting frustrated–dude could barely do up his buttons, he wouldn’t have the patience for the clasps–and pushing the fabric out of the way instead, about Rhett’s body pinning the skirt in place between them as he’d rocked into tight heat, about Rhett, always about Rhett)





	

**Author's Note:**

> based on/dedicated to dee‘s [lovely rhink art](http://deeleteme.tumblr.com/post/151721423481/i-dont-have-an-excuse-for-this), and the hell I've dragged her into

The first time, Rhett laughed. Link doesn’t blame him–it was a different time, and they were practically babies. Rhett was right to laugh, probably, based on what Link remembers. Things hadn’t fit right and what sticks out in Link’s memory of the day–besides Rhett’s involuntary giggle, high-pitched and nervous–had been how dang _unwieldy_  everything had been.

He’d felt good, though, in a little white thing with red piping, a vital piece of a cheerleading uniform Link still isn’t sure how Rhett’s then-girlfriend had left without.

(even then he’d thought about how it ended up on the floor in the first place, about Rhett’s blunt fingers fumbling with the zipper before getting frustrated–dude could barely do up his buttons, he wouldn’t have the patience for the clasps–and pushing the fabric out of the way instead, about Rhett’s body pinning the skirt in place between them as he’d rocked into tight heat, about Rhett, always about Rhett)

Link’d scrambled to cover himself immediately, better about his shyness but not–not that good, not yet, not with Rhett _laughing_ at him, not when he’d barely had time to look at himself in the mirror before the door was busting open.

_You trying out for the team?_  Rhett’d asked, voice as tight as his laugh had been.

Link’s certain he must have been redder than the NC State logo, but he’d still grinned and cocked his hip, put one fist up in his best imitation of a cheerleader he could. It wasn’t very good, but Rhett had still laughed.

He’s not laughing now.

They’re older now, and know more now–about the world, about each other. Things Link never thought he’d know, like the pattern of freckles between Rhett’s thighs, like the labels _men’s_  and _women’s_  were arbitrary. People were people, and clothes were clothes, and Link was people and this was clothes and–

Rhett’s. Not laughing.

It’s Link’s size, this time, and not _white_ thank goodness–no clasps, either, not that Link had lingered on that detail as long as he had the fit. He’d always liked his waist, liked how it narrowed down from his ribs, though his hips–well, he liked them well enough now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use fabric to cut a fuller figure. Link’d have to look at his reflection to figure out if it was working for him as well as it had the model; instead, he looks at Rhett.

“You,” Rhett says, voice low and a little rough, “you trying to kill me, brother?”

Link makes himself grin, turn back to the mirror (shows Rhett his backside, keeps his eyes on Rhett’s reflection to gauge whether he’d chosen the right style). “Shoulda knocked,” he mumbles. “You’re always barging in places. It’s rude, you know.”

Rhett manages to look both startled and guilty and _something else_ at the same time. “Rude– _you’re_  the one always going in rooms when I’m not there, moving stuff around–”

“I’m _tidying,_ Rhett, I’m not–” Link starts, huffing, but Rhett interrupts him by taking a step forward and sending Link’s thoughts scattering.

“–being hypocritical, yes you are, because you always get on me for ordering things without telling you, and now you’ve gone and…” Link watches Rhett’s eyes dip. Wills himself not to ruin the drape of his skirt by reacting. Musters up his indignance instead.

“Clothes shopping is different from buying a freakin’ _cuckoo clock_ and having it shipped expressly from _Austria,”_ Link says, but he sounds nervous, even to his own ears. He forges ahead resolutely. “Besides, I told you, it wasn’t the expense, it was the racket. Just about gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh,” Rhett says, lower still. “You wanna talk about giving a man a heart attack, Link? Have you looked in the freakin’ mirror?”

Link juts out his jaw, refuses to let Rhett win that easily. “I _told_  you–” he starts, breaks off when Rhett takes another long stride forward, all-but crashes into the back of him.

“Look in the mirror, bo,” Rhett says. 

Link wants to say _I am,_ but Rhett reaches out to guide Link’s chin, direct his gaze. He wants to resist, but Rhett’s other hand comes to rest on where Link’s shirt’s tucked in and–and _oh,_ that’s quite the visual.

“Look at you,” Rhett adds, the words shaking like it’s come from the deepest parts of him, and Link’s shaking too, and–neither of them are laughing, not this time.

Link closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. _Looks._

There’s silence for a long moment, broken only by the distant chiming of their Austrian timepiece, as Link takes in the picture he makes, adjusts his hair and his hem and finally, Rhett’s hands, until both are rubbing distractedly at Link’s hips and completely ruining his silhouette.

“You look amazing,” Rhett murmurs, completely unfazed by Link’s fussing, completely ignoring his careful adjustments in favor of tugging Link back to be flush against him.

Link feels the fabric against the back of his thighs bunch and lift. Watches new folds form. 

“I don’t hate it,” he manages.

Rhett doesn’t laugh, not audibly, but he blows out a warm breath against Link’s neck before bending to press a kiss to it. 

“I’m buying you twenty,” he mumbles. 

This time, it’s Link that laughs, but with Rhett’s hands on him and Link’s hands on Rhett’s and the two of them looking in the mirror together, taking in the picture they make. 

“Feel good?” Rhett asks, and–yeah, Link does.  
  
_(Let me make you feel better?_ Rhett asks, and that doesn’t make sense until, he’s moving his hands to bunch the fabric of Link’s skirt, and Link was right, he was so right, no patience for clasps at all)  



End file.
